Years of Devotion, A Lifetime of Betrayal

Years of Devotion, A Lifetime of Betrayal

Priorities

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"Maya, we need to talk about the Nova Fellowship." Ethan's voice was smooth, but his eyes held a look I knew well before he asked for something big. The final interviews for my dream fellowship were just next week. He sighed, running a hand through his perfect brown hair, then dropped the bombshell: Chloe, the Harrisons' "lost" daughter, suddenly wanted to apply. I stared, my heart pounding, realizing the application deadline had passed months ago, and Chloe knew nothing of astrophysics. He quickly explained they were making an exception for Chloe due to "hardship," courtesy of the Harrisons' pulled strings. A cold feeling started in my stomach when he gently suggested I withdraw my application for "family goodwill." He squeezed my hands, urging me to "give Chloe a fair shot" because she was "fragile." I pulled my hands away, reminding him this fellowship was my entire future. He insisted I'd find other opportunities, painting my sacrifice as a "gesture for family." His words felt like cotton, trying to smother the fire of my lifelong dream. He believed this was reasonable, that I should sacrifice everything for a girl he barely knew, who had appeared out of nowhere. My carefully built world, with Ethan at its center, felt like it was tilting, as I realized I was just in the way. Then, he left me stranded in a furious Nor'easter, sick and alone, rushing off to comfort Chloe's "panic attack." Weeks later, the Harrisons, with Ethan's complicity, publicly branded me a plagiarist, expelled me from Blackwood, and stole my groundbreaking dark matter algorithm. I saw Chloe presenting my life's work as her own, celebrated as a "rising star." My reputation was in ruins, my academic dreams destroyed, my love for Ethan shattered into a million pieces. How could Ethan, the man I loved, betray me for an imposter, and why did the family treat me as expendable after years of devotion? Publicly shamed, injured in an angry crowd, I truly hit rock bottom, lying feverish and abandoned in a hospital bed. Just as despair threatened to consume me, I remembered the private investigator's card, tucked away in my wallet, leading to the biological family I thought were dead. That night, lying shattered and alone, I reached for my phone, found the investigator's number, and made the call to choose myself and reclaim my life.

Introduction

"Maya, we need to talk about the Nova Fellowship."

Ethan's voice was smooth, but his eyes held a look I knew well before he asked for something big.

The final interviews for my dream fellowship were just next week.

He sighed, running a hand through his perfect brown hair, then dropped the bombshell: Chloe, the Harrisons' "lost" daughter, suddenly wanted to apply.

I stared, my heart pounding, realizing the application deadline had passed months ago, and Chloe knew nothing of astrophysics.

He quickly explained they were making an exception for Chloe due to "hardship," courtesy of the Harrisons' pulled strings.

A cold feeling started in my stomach when he gently suggested I withdraw my application for "family goodwill."

He squeezed my hands, urging me to "give Chloe a fair shot" because she was "fragile."

I pulled my hands away, reminding him this fellowship was my entire future.

He insisted I'd find other opportunities, painting my sacrifice as a "gesture for family."

His words felt like cotton, trying to smother the fire of my lifelong dream.

He believed this was reasonable, that I should sacrifice everything for a girl he barely knew, who had appeared out of nowhere.

My carefully built world, with Ethan at its center, felt like it was tilting, as I realized I was just in the way.

Then, he left me stranded in a furious Nor'easter, sick and alone, rushing off to comfort Chloe's "panic attack."

Weeks later, the Harrisons, with Ethan's complicity, publicly branded me a plagiarist, expelled me from Blackwood, and stole my groundbreaking dark matter algorithm.

I saw Chloe presenting my life's work as her own, celebrated as a "rising star."

My reputation was in ruins, my academic dreams destroyed, my love for Ethan shattered into a million pieces.

How could Ethan, the man I loved, betray me for an imposter, and why did the family treat me as expendable after years of devotion?

Publicly shamed, injured in an angry crowd, I truly hit rock bottom, lying feverish and abandoned in a hospital bed.

Just as despair threatened to consume me, I remembered the private investigator's card, tucked away in my wallet, leading to the biological family I thought were dead.

That night, lying shattered and alone, I reached for my phone, found the investigator's number, and made the call to choose myself and reclaim my life.

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The crisp Stanford acceptance letter felt like a cruel joke in my hands, a ghost from a life that ended in betrayal. I stared through it, past the promises, seeing Chloe and Brooke' s smiles, and the sterile white of the hospital room where my grandmother lay still. I remembered the twisted metal, the rain on my face, and Brooke running-not to me, bleeding on the pavement, but to Zoe, who had a mere scratch. My spirit lingered just long enough to hear their laughter, their celebration of sterilizing me, willing all my assets to Zoe. My life, my love, my trust – all a long, cruel punchline. Reborn into this sunlit room, with the future in my hand, I felt only a cold, clear purpose. Paper tore, then tore again, until the Stanford dream was confetti falling into the trash. Silicon Valley could wait. My phone buzzed with their fake concern: Chloe' s "Love you! 😘" and Brooke' s "So proud of you, Alex." I deleted them without a reply. Their words were poison, and I was finally immune. My grandmother, Susan, found me later, confused about my rejection of Stanford, Google, and Apple. I told her I wanted to stay, to protect her. The next day, whispers of "crazy" and "waste" followed me. Then they walked in: Chloe, Brooke, and the architect of my destruction, Zoe. She looked so plain, but her voice was pure venom, painting herself as the victim, accusing me of arrogance, of having everything handed to me. My fists clenched. Chloe and Brooke, who knew the truth, chose the lie. They weren't my friends. They were my enemies. I walked out. The game was on. This time, I knew the rules. And I was not going to lose.

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